


Love

by AngelusErrare



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Eeveelution, Gen, Sylveon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-08 05:01:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1128633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelusErrare/pseuds/AngelusErrare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sylveon evolve through love, while Umbreon evolve through friendship. It's easy to accidentally get one or the other.<br/>With the wrong trainer, however...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Eternal Scribe (Shadowcat)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowcat/gifts).



> Based off of this image: http://41.media.tumblr.com/c2777ebbe1bbe29322487b570598b49e/tumblr_mz4c0j0bUX1qghowlo1_500.png  
> When I showed the image to Eternal Scribe, they asked me to "fix it".  
> I'm still inexperienced with Pokemon fanfic (or fanfic in general) so I apologize in advance.
> 
>  
> 
> **Edited 7/5/2015 to fix some gods-awful dialogue choices.**

"Thank you," Tory murmured to the Day-Care Man before turning away. Every weekend the newbie breeder flew back to Camphrier Town and rode his bike to the Pokemon Daycare to check the two beloved Cacturne he had left there. Though he knew it was unlikely, he hoped with each egg he cared for that the next one would hatch with a rare, unusual color. That would be a great achievement for such a young breeder; a wonderful way to get noticed in the community. If he got the attention of other breeders, he could learn from professionals.

However, this week his Cacturne had decided love was not in their agenda. Perhaps it was due to the Day-Care couple's ever-watchful eyes. Who could stay in the mood when they were constantly being stared at? Tory laughed as he walked over to the blue bike he had chained to the fence, brown eyes glittering with amusement. Maybe his Pokemon had performance anxiety. 

He thanked the Day-Care Man once more before he kicked off, heading back in the direction of Camphrier Town. He could have just flown back to his apartment in Lumiose, avoiding the heavily perfumed air caused by the flowers along Route 7, but his Pidgeot was tired and he wanted to let her rest. He could put up with a few allergies for the sake of his Pokemon.

As he passed the fork that lead to Route 6, he heard shouting. The excitement in the man's voice sparked his curiosity, and against his better judgement Tory turned his bike and pedaled down the second road. _It's stupid,_ he told himself. _He probably caught a Pokemon, or had one of his evolve. There's nothing worth going there for._ Despite this, he still rode on. After a moment he could see a trainer and his Eevee-- except the Eevee was glowing.

"See," he muttered to himself, "nothing." _Just turn around and go back._

He couldn't. As much as he wanted to, as much as seeing another trainer's success when all he had was failure depressed him, Tory stayed rooted there, one scuffed white sneaker pressed into the packed dirt of the road, dark eyes watching as the glow of the Eevee intensified. The trainer, a young adult, was whooping and cheering as his Pokemon morphed in front of him. He punched the air and his black hat fell off, landing in the dust, but he didn't seem to notice. His auburn hair was messy, his plain grey T-shirt and blue jeans faded and dirty, but there was obvious joy on his face.

The breeder's head tilted, hearing the cry of an unfamiliar pokemon come from the ball of bright white light that had previously been an Eevee.

Just like that, it was over. Even though Tory had seen it many times with his own Pokemon, it was still a bit of a shock to see how suddenly one of them could change their form. Where once there had been a fluffy brown Eevee now stood a much larger, peach-colored Pokemon he had never seen before. Its tail, paws and ears were pink, while its eyes, inner ears, and the tips of its ribbons were light blue. Oh yes, it had ribbons, though he couldn't tell if the delicately folded bows were fur or flesh. The Pokemon cried out again, jubilant in its transformation as it stared up with loving aqua eyes at its trainer.

"NO!" screamed the man, and the breeder frowned in confusion. The Pokemon, too, was bewildered, laying its huge, fluffy ears back against its head. The trainer kicked at the creature, which jumped back with a startled yelp. 

The bike hit the dirt. He didn't even care if the paint got scratched or the spokes of the wheel got dented. One thing his dad drilled into his head from a very young age-- _never try to hurt a Pokemon._ "It's the lowest thing you could do," the old trainer had told him, "especially if that Pokemon is your friend."

He was at least thirty meters away, but Tory stalked towards the man with his fists balled at his sides. It didn't matter that this man's shirt clung to the muscles of his arms and chest. It didn't matter that he himself was a skinny, pale teen without any experience in a fight.

"Dammit, I wanted an _Umbreon_!" snarled the man, advancing even as his Pokemon rapidly tried to backpedal. He lashed out again with his foot and the Pokemon barely dodged this second kick. 

Now the boy was only a few feet away, and would have been seen if the older male hadn't turned his back on the road. "I wanted an Umbreon," he repeated with malice, "not some girly, pink _thing_!"

Before he could stop himself, Tory shouted, "So what does it matter if he's pink?"

The man whirled on him. Ordinarily the boy would have fled, but for some reason he was oddly calm. No, calm wasn't the word, because he was pissed. But his mind was totally clear.

"Keep your nose out of it, kid," growled the man, his eyes chips of blue ice. Turning back to the trembling Pokemon, he snapped, "I didn't raise you to be like that!"

Tory looked down at the Pokemon, and his anger peaked. It was crying. He had never seen a Pokemon cry before; legend said it was rare, only occurring when the Pokemon loved its human very much. The tears were supposed to have amazing healing properties. The Pokemon stared up at its trainer with watery eyes, silvery tears running down its cheeks and soaking the pale fur.

"He loves you," Tory said quietly, resisting the urge to punch the man right then and there. Violence never solved anything, and he knew that, but oh, how he would enjoy the feeling of introducing his fist to this man's jaw.

"Who cares if he loves me?" the trainer asked angrily. "If he really loved me he would have been an Umbreon."

"He can't control what he evolves into! You should have known that when you decided to train an Eevee!"

"And what would you know about training Eevees? You're what, twelve?" He was off by four years, not that it mattered.

Digging his nails into callused palms, Tory hissed, "I'm young, yeah, but I'm a breeder too." When the man scoffed, he added, "Thing is, you don't need to be a breeder to know you shouldn't be a dick to your Pokemon."

"Watch who you're talkin' to. I've beaten three gyms, and I'm on my way to becoming Champion of the Pokemon League." The man puffed his chest out as he spoke, but Tory was watching the Pokemon quivering in the dirt.

"What a bigshot," he muttered sarcastically, taking a step toward the Pokemon. "Badges don't mean a thing if you don't treat your Pokemon right. You can't beat the Kalos League with a team of Pokemon you treat like shit."

"As if a little kid like you knows anything about battling!"

By now he was focusing on the Pokemon, slowly kneeling and extending one hand to the furry beast, palm up. Even as he met its fearful eyes, his other hand was reaching for his belt, for the Poke Ball that contained his faithful Pidgeot, Skysong. As he tossed it and heard the telltale call of the bird, Tory made a soft, soothing whispering sound, keeping his gaze locked on the cream Pokemon.

Skysong hopped to his side, giving the other Pokemon a curious look before nudging her beak against Tory's arm. His lips curled up at the corner into a small smile, before he tilted his head towards the other trainer. Recognizing his signal, the massive bird shifted between the male and her trainer, spreading her wings wide and puffing up her feathers in a threat display.

The man stomped his foot like a child. "Are you trying to keep me from my Pokemon?"

Tory didn't answer his question. "A good breeder has to know how to train Pokemon, not just hatch eggs. Skysong here, she's been with me all the way. From the first battle to our recent victory over Clemont-- you know, the fifth gym leader?" 

As the man stuttered, attempting a reply, Tory lightly cooed at his Pokemon, the way he did to each newborn Cacturne he hatched in the past few months. The sound soothed Pokemon, though he would be lying if he claimed to know why. The creature was still crying, but with the considerable bulk of the Pidgeot and her spread wings between him and his trainer, he seemed calmer. Tory smiled reassuringly, still holding out his hand. Slowly, warily, the Pokemon stepped towards him.

"Beating a few gyms doesn't give you the right to tell me what I can do with my Pokemon!" Tory struggled not to look away from the Pokemon; eye contact was important when trying to win a Pokemon's trust, and if he broke it now he could lose his chance. Taking his silence as affirmation, the older trainer continued. "If I want a god damn Umbreon, I've got my own damn right to toss this worthless Sylveon out."

Sylveon. So that was the name of the Pokemon. Tory called it, and its ears perked slightly. He couldn't help grinning.

"Do you _hear_ me? I said you have no right--"

"You just said you want to release your Sylveon, right?" So close. Just a few more steps and the little tan creature would be near enough to touch.

The man's voice reverted into his earlier snarl, and he kicked Skysong square in the stomach. She cried out in pain and fell against Tory's side, and he turned from the Sylveon. A mistake, he knew, but he wasn't letting this overgrown bully hurt any more Pokemon.

He stood, now placing his own body between the man and the two Pokemon, his chin held high in defiance. "You want to try that again, sir?" It took every ounce of effort not to scream. He was boiling inside, absolutely furious, but if the Sylveon saw anger any chance he might still have would evaporate.

"Get out of my way, you little punk."

"Battle me."

"What?"

"Battle me," Tory repeated quietly, lightly touching the second ball strapped to the makeshift bandolier over his chest. 

The man shook his head. "You've got to be crazy."

"Maybe I am. Battle me."

"For what?"

"Winner gets that Sylveon."

"Why would you risk your own Pokemon getting hurt for a useless thing like him?"

Tory sighed. "No Pokemon is useless. If you really hate it so much, you'll have no problem letting me take it."

"I'm not losing to a kid." Reaching into his pocket, the trainer pulled out a Poke Ball and threw it. From the ball emerged a large, menacing-looking Gogoat. The leafy mane shook as it tossed its head, showing off massive, deadly horns. A beauty of a specimen, though Tory wouldn't say it aloud.

Shrugging, he pressed the button on the Poke Ball he had selected, allowing it to grow to full size before he tossed it. The ball popped open at the hinge, and the pink energy that burst forth rapidly formed a tall, thick figure. If he had thrown this ball earlier, the man's kick to the Pokemon would have resulted in a broken leg.

"Hearth," he said quietly to the Typhlosion standing in front of him. The mammalian beast's fiery mane flared in greeting, though its eyes were locked on its opponent.

"You should give up now," Tory said with a shrug.

The man took a step back. "N-no way!" he cried, then snapped at his Pokemon, "Gogoat, use your Seed Bomb!"

"Hearth, dodge it and use Lava Plume."

The massive goat spat at its enemy, the large seeds it coughed up bursting when they missed and hit the ground. For its size, the Typhlosion dodged well, the result of years of training under Tory's care, then rounded on the Gogoat. Its mane grew larger and hotter, then exploded out in all directions as the volcanic Pokemon roared.

The fire burned against the Gogoat's leaves, and in seconds it collapsed to the ground, fainted. "Fire," Tory murmured as the man sank to his knees beside the goat, his mouth hanging open. "It's super-effective against grass-type Pokemon like your Gogoat."

He sighed and knelt again, while the Typhlosion placed itself between the two humans. The Sylveon had watched the short battle intently, its tears dried. As Tony smiled at it, the catlike Pokemon slowly stepped forward to meet his outstretched hand. Skysong weakly chirped, and he stroked her feathery crest as the Sylveon sniffed him. He would take both of them back to the Center in Camphrier as soon as possible to get them both treated.

The Sylveon rubbed his cheek against Tory's hand, and the boy chuckled quietly. "That's it... you're safe now."

"Safe now?" The man yelled, and Tory ground his teeth. 

"Yes, safe. I beat you, and you agreed to--"

"I didn't agree to shit!"

Tory barely glanced at him. "You battled me and lost. I'm taking this Sylveon with me." Shaking his head, he added, "It's not like you even want him, anyway."

"Fine!" shouted the trainer. "You take that stupid Pokemon, but you can bet I'll be calling the police as soon as I get back into town."

One eyebrow arched, and Tory said vehemently, "If you do, I'll tell them how you tried to kick him, and how you _did_ hit my Pidgeot. The local officers all know me. If I tell them why I took Sylveon, it'll be you they're looking to arrest, not me."

He didn't hear another word after that. Quietly, he asked his pokemon to return to their balls, and when he thought it wouldn't run away, he gently picked up the Sylveon and walked back to his bike. He wasn't followed, though he didn't look back to see what the man was doing. Probably still sitting in the dirt. When he reached his bike, he continued past it. It was just a bike. He could come back for it later. If it was still there, great. If not, no big loss.

What mattered was the Sylveon.

His Sylveon.


End file.
